When one looks at a dance, or any art work in general, there is always a strong urge to figure out what it “means” or what it’s “about.” It’s human nature. For many people, when those questions aren’t answered, the piece would feel unsatisfactory.

Those people may not enjoy BLEED very much, then. The piece, created by Tere O’Connor and performed at On the Boards, dwells less on defining concepts within a dance and more on how choreographic structure dictates what concepts are brought out as a supposed “meaning.” At least, that’s what the program note said.

So, in order to fully have the most high academic perspective on Tere O Connor and his many ideas I decided to attend the formative pieces of the work I saw previously this week in order to have smart thoughts about them.

But I didn't.

I can always provide smart writings and eloquations and new words towards the things I enjoy or am passionate about; this is how I somehow got a degree from a higher institution in THE COMPARATIVE HISTORY OF IDEAS, also known as a degree in ALL THE THINGS AND ALSO NOTHING AND THAT MEANS SOMETHING.

One of the greatest challenges for a choreographer is knowing how long a dance should be. The current trend to hourlong non-narrative works performed without intermission can sometimes strain a viewer’s attention with unnecessary repetitions and lack of coherence.

What is it about Seattle that made this the place for you to present these four pieces?

Seattle is one of the main cities in America that has a dance scene—it’s a destination dance city. The reception here has been great, we had 40 thoughtful people at the workshop and 20 people with some really interesting questions at Monday’s book club.

In a one hour session I was treated with BLEED by Tere O’Connor last night. I was reminded that the body communicates constantly. There were moments of stillness and waiting. I can see the dancers’ eyes looking at each other and silently communicating. The tension grew to impetus and that’s when movement erupted. Even at rest the bodies are telling me something – whether they’re sleeping, stunned, actively seeking comfort… the bodies won’t stop talking. The smallest gestures of the piece spoke the loudest like a turn of the head.

A large black box stage, simple but effective light design, no props, no video and no set design allowed my senses to become open to Tere O’Connor’s Bleed. It was a joy to witness dancers move with an empty stage as their playground. The dancers became the set, the video, the props and at times the sound score. Bleed is a dance about memory of previous choreographed works by Mr. O’Connor (You still have a chance to see his works poem, Secret Mary and Sister, Friday through Sunday at On the Boards and Velocity Dance Center).